


Fake sparks (light real flames)

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No SHIELD (Marvel), Background Scies&Spies, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Daisy is tired of Jemma trying to set her up, but she never imagined the solution to that problem would be in pretending to date the latest man Jemma sends to "meet" her. Having a fake boyfriend/girlfriend ends up coming in handy for both her and Lincoln, now if only her inconvenient feelings would get out of the way...
Relationships: Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	Fake sparks (light real flames)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [XOLove47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XOLove47/gifts).



> Written for @accio-the-force for the Final Mission Rarepair Exchange; hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

She is ten minutes late for her date.

The delay on the subway is partially to blame, but if someone asked her, Daisy would say without any hesitation that it is also a form of protest.

Okay, yes,  _ technically  _ she did say yes to Jemma’s insistence about setting her up for the millionth time. In her defense, her friend had been tiring her up for a long time and she can not be held totally accountable for doing anything needed to shut her up. Also, Jemma offered to pay for dinner, and as someone who grew up poor, Daisy does not know how to say no to a free meal.

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts before walking inside the restaurant and telling her name to the maître d’- she doesn’t want to bum herself out before this even starts. And considering that this is a blind date set by Jemma, she knows she will have reasons to be bummed before the night ends.

The truth is that Jemma is awful at the whole matchmaker business. And not even, like,  _ regular  _ awful, but astronomically awful. It is equal parts because she refuses to accept that there is something she is not good at and because she is not the best at understanding and processing emotions. How she ended up with two boyfriends and one girlfriend, Daisy will never know.

But in for a penny, in for a pound, she thinks while she stops for a second in front of a mirror to check her hair and her lipstick. Worst case scenario, she leaves soon with a full belly and a story to tell during the next girls’ night.

The waiter takes her to an empty table. A rush of mixed disappointment and relief runs through her before she notices the sport coat that hangs on the back of the opposite chair. Okay, so he might have taken advantage of her delay to make a phone call or go to the bathroom. Not a big deal. She sits down, asks for a bottle of water, and starts going through her phone while she waits.

“I gotta be honest with you: of the many people I thought Jemma could set me up with, you were ranking pretty low.”

It feels like she is working in slow motion while she raises her head to look up at him, especially since she recognizes the voice.

“I can’t believe that after the many times I told her no, she decides to pull my leg when I actually say yes,” she retorts at Lincoln while he sits down.

“Same here.”

Long story short, they have known each other ever since Jemma started med school, but never actually clicked. Their common acquaintances were only Jemma and Bobbi, and while they only saw each other once or twice a year, it was enough to put each other in the “thank you but no, thank you” column. Daisy is somewhat aware that at many moments in time their lives were going in opposite directions: when she was partying like nobody’s business, he was in rehab; when he started his own practice, Daisy had just lost her job and was sleeping on Fitz’s couch. Now, sitting on the other side of the table, looking handsome on an expensive-looking white shirt and with a scruff that is meticulously unkempt, Daisy doesn’t forget the quarrels they had over the years, but at the same time a warm feeling spreads on her chest: the sensation of unexpectedly meeting someone that is not necessarily close, but that knows you enough to allow you to be honest, especially since she could have been met with someone so much worse.

She also feels very grateful she only ordered water instead of a bottle of wine.

“I actually wonder if this is her way of telling us that we are reaching that age when people look at you and straight up thinks you have been left on the shelf.”

Lincoln smiles and Daisy doesn't remember ever noticing before the small lines the gesture brings to his face. Maybe it is the years or maybe she just has never seen him smile enough.

“Oh, gosh, do you think I have to start telling her the same fake stories I use on my mom and my sister?”

“It couldn’t hurt.” Daisy nods for good measure and opens the menu. “Funny or not, she will still be paying, so want to order two different appetizers and share?” 

* * *

Diner goes… surprisingly well.

Talking with Lincoln is nice, especially now that they are alone without their friends to get them polarized on divisive opinions. He tells her about medical school and horror stories about his pediatric practice. Daisy tells him about her teenage years being friends with Jemma and horror stories about being a woman in STEM. Honestly, why does every job come with horror stories to tell? Maybe so people have something to talk about on dates.

They move from appetizers to main dishes and they are waiting on dessert before Daisy decides she needs a break. Her cheeks hurt from laughing and she has a pleasant, warm buzz on her neck, which is concerning since she didn’t have any wine. A gentle splashing of her face might be in order. 

Her suspicions that Jemma planned this as a jab to get back to them for refusing her so many times are confirmed when she checks her phone after placing some water on the nape of her neck. She has one missed call from Bobbi; three missed calls and two long-winded comments apologizing from Fitz; a string of funny emojis from Hunter. Radio silence from Jemma. Daisy knows her friend enough to know that, if this were a serious setup, Jemma would be blowing up her phone looking for updates. For a scientist, she sure is impatient when it comes to finding out how her experiments go. 

The idea comes to her on the same tray as dessert, that is being served while she walks back to the table. Lincoln is pushing his own portion of tiramisu with a smile to offer her the first bite when Daisy splutters it all out, “We should pretend this date worked.”

She is high-key nervous to see his reaction at her preposterous proposition, but the left corner of his mouth tick up and Daisy’s nerves turn to tingles on her legs.

“Explain.”

“We both know that Jemma set this up as some sort of temper tantrum because we don’t let her meddle in our love lives.” Lincoln nods. “What better way to put her off matchmaking than making her believe the only time it worked was when it wasn’t supposed to work at all?”

Lincoln stretches his arm to steal a bite of her apple crumble and Daisy slaps it off unconsciously. A second too late she realizes what she did and that she is allegedly  _ not  _ a cavewoman and pushes her plate towards him. He chews his bite thoughtfully before replying.

“I don’t see why not. Honestly, these days I am open to any shenanigans suggestion that doesn’t involve formula or pacifiers.”

She throws a loose crumble of bread his way, and she is glad that despite the fact that they are both pushing thirty now and they are both wearing expensive clothes, he still retaliates with his own whole napkin.

“Ow! Uncool!” She can hear him mutter under his breath  _ you are uncool _ but pushes forward ignoring him. “We have to set a story straight, but I believe the Fantastic Four’s Halloween party next week needs to be the mainstay of this ploy.”

Lincoln takes out his phone and even Daisy- who has her own glued to her palm pretty much all day- almost calls him rude until he looks dead serious into her eyes.

“Brainstorming cheesy couple’s costumes starts now.”

* * *

When she steps outside her building to wait for him, Daisy is very very glad that Lincoln offered to pick her up so they can arrive at the party together. It’s Halloween, which means that a lot of people are already pretty riled up and acting stupider-than-usual as a consequence, public transport probably would be a bitch and she was not looking forward to getting near too many strangers in grope distance with this mini dress.

He really was around the corner as he said, as she has to wait for him only for thirty seconds. It has been fun this past week, getting to text him during work breaks with outlandish ideas for their plan and each sharing their side of Jemma’s reaction to the fantasy Ideal First Date each of them told her. He didn’t reply much during the day, but at night he always sent her a thorough run-through of all her ideas, adding some ingredients of his own. One night she even fell asleep with her phone falling on her face- not an unusual occurrence in itself, but it had been a while since it happened to her because she was too absorbed in someone else, instead of just taking notes for work or pretending to read one of her books.

“Welcome on board,” he receives her with a smile the moment she jumps inside. “You look great, Daisy.”

“Thanks.” She tries her best to not stare at him, but it’s kinda hard with how amazing he looks on his white hat, chokers, and pants. She’d rather not think how fine he will look standing up, with the crisp lines making him look even taller and leaner… “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He tips his hat at her before starting the car again.

“You okay? Did you finish that revision on time?”

Daisy groans.

“Don’t even get me started. He had already told me the program was ready for launching last week and then went back on his word like it had never happened!”

He listens to her talking about her job sympathetically all the way to their friends’ house, and Daisy is startled when she realizes they are already there and they haven't even run through their cover story once. Lincoln rummages through the backseat for the signs that would take their costumes from “a sailor and a cloud” to “Iceberg & The Titanic”. Daisy puts hers on and realizes it’s a lot pinker and sparklier than she imagined. 

“I might have let a patient that was feeling a bit too anxious add her own touch to them,” Lincoln confesses, sheepish. Daisy looks away. She can not let such a small thing make her emotional. 

“At least they are not written in your chicken scrawl,” she teases him and immediately after leaps out of the car to not allow him to defend himself.

He looks as good as she imagined when he stands by her side, she can’t help but notice when he sets straight on her head the hairband she adorned with white faux fur and takes her hand.

“Last opportunity to call this off.”

For all answer, Daisy tugs him inside by the hand.

* * *

So far they have successfully avoided all the hosts- they don’t want to lie to them but they also want any of them to tip off Jemma,  _ yes, Fitz, we are looking at you- _ and played the cutesy couple for all the acquaintances and plain strangers that they have run into so far. They pose the costumes together while Daisy plays the Mrs. Doctor's role quite well if she can say so herself, and Lincoln is not half bad at the smitten role either- it’s because of the dreamy eyes, Daisy tells herself. He has half the job done already. Nothing to read into there.

“Jemma spotted in the kitchen,” Lincoln stage-whispers at her to make himself heard over the music, forty minutes in.

“Oh, so sometimes it’s useful to live up there on tall-land, I see.” She elbows him playfully and he ducks his head down, smiling while they traverse the room together to get to Jemma.

Jemma is on her regular lab coat and protective eyewear, and Daisy frowns. That seems a bit uncharacteristically of her, to put little work into a costume, especially when she is hosting. The hair to the side and the pearls around her neck are weird, though. 

“Hi, you two!” Her smile is way bigger than usual, and Daisy knows her enough to recognize it as one of the ways she uses to hide her irritation. Her eyes zero automatically on their entwined hands, though she averts them quickly. So they have hit a button, then. Good to know. “Do you have drinks? The boys are on beverage duty, but you know how they are.”

“Nice costume, Jemma,” Lincoln praises in a way that sounds sincere and Daisy tilts her head, trying to read the costume again. She might have to ask him later. “And we are fine, don’t worry.”

“I see you brought matching costumes. How sweet.” No amount of faking it will ever be able to hide the bitterness on her voice.

“That we did,” Daisy adds unnecessarily, and just as unnecessarily, she goes to her tiptoes and presses a sloppy kiss to Lincoln’s cheek. He reacts quickly and puts on an enraptured expression on his face that is almost terrible enough to make her break character. Oh, she is glad she is doing this with him and not someone else.

“Excuse me, but I don’t get it!” Jemma bursts out, cheeks reddening. Daisy wishes she could exchange a lowkey high five with Lincoln. “I have tried to set you two up in the past, and then set each of you up with different people a hundred times, and you rejected everyone! And the one time I wasn’t being serious, you decided it was the right moment to dive in?”

Daisy looks at Lincoln from the corner of her eyes and he gives her a slight nod. Time for the delivery. The point is not to push their friend into a nervous breakdown, after all. They take the signs that hang around their necks and say  _ Titanic _ and  _ Iceberg  _ respectively and turn them around: on strong, black block letters, hers reads _ ‘LEAVE US’  _ and his ‘ _ ALONE!!’.  _

_ “ _ Jemma, we both love you-”

“-but you have tried to meddle in our love lives enough.”

Jemma is looking at them, flabbergasted. “I knew it couldn’t be true!”

For the first time since they left the car, Daisy lets go of Lincoln’s hand and takes a step towards Jemma, who is now pouting. Her fingers feel a little numb, but also warm. 

“Then why are you so upset? Listen, babe, it was fun to poke at you, but we’d rather chill with our friends without having to worry that you will try to push another prospect on either of our faces, okay?”

The pouting deepens, and now that Jemma has lowered her chin, Daisy can see a DNA brooch on her hair.

“Truce?” Lincoln offers, and stretches his arm forward with the palm down. Daisy puts her own on top of his and looks at Jemma to not think how unfair it is that his hands are smooth and good-looking on top of big and warm.

Jemma shakes her shoulders a little to show her dissatisfaction but ends up placing her hand on top of Daisy’s.

“Truce.”

* * *

Luckily, people don’t ask about their costumes for the remnant of the night, despite Daisy and Lincoln staying together pretty much for the whole extension of the party. People come and go and they chat and exchange pleasantries with everyone, but have no motivation to part ways. Daisy tells herself that you don’t break a couple’s costumes apart, even if you are not a couple.

Lincoln explains to her Jemma’s costume- Rosalind Franklin- and they both watch in amusement while Fitz and Hunter - both in football player costumes that Daisy doesn’t get and doesn’t want to get- exchange money because one of them was sure them getting together was a sham and the other wasn’t- her and Lincoln have divergent opinions on which one betted what, though. 

When they are leaving- again, Lincoln was her ride, no reason for them to leave separately- Bobbi, wonderfully clad in a Wonder Woman corset (pun intended), embraces her at the door and whispers on her ear, “You know Jemma is always, eventually, right, don’t you?”

A cold chill that goes well with her costume runs down her spine, and Daisy refuses to look back at Bobbi’s piercing eyes while she walks to the car. 

* * *

During the next few weeks, their communication thins. The end of the year is a crazy time in pretty much any occupation, so Daisy doesn’t believe either of them are to blame. They don’t have a particular topic to talk over anymore, and on itself the fact that they make an effort to keep in contact every two to three days is heartwarming. If all they get from Jemma’s cerebrations is a new friend each, that is more than good enough in her book.

She is huddled under blankets watching a scary movie with Fitz when a message from Lincoln lights up her phone in early December. She texts a reply to his sweet story about one of his patients (not that her understanding of the movie will change much for missing ten seconds of non-plot…), and by the time she raises her head again, the movie has been paused and Fitz is looking at her with knowing eyes.

“Lincoln?” he asks, and his tone is similar enough to the way Jemma would say it to make her get defensive.

“Yes. We text every once in a while, so what?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He raises his hands in the air, feigning innocence. “You were smiling, that’s all.” He cuddles back against her and Daisy accepts his warm body against hers warily. Fitz presses play and they watch the movie in silence for several minutes before he delivers the last blow. “It’s good to see you smiling, Daisy.” 

She can’t focus on the stupid-ass plot of the movie for another second after that. 

* * *

_ Hey I just found from Jemma that you got a promotion yesterday! Congratulations, you rock!  _

Daisy opens up the text message for the twelfth time in the last three hours, stares at it for a couple of minutes, and marks it again as Not Read. The green point on her phone looks at her accusingly and Daisy throws it to the other end of the couch, only to grab it again less than thirty seconds later.

Better say it while the thought is still hot in her head and she can’t come up with a million reasons why this is a bad idea.

_ thank you! actually i wanted to ask, are you free tuesday? i know it’s sudden but i got a nice dinner gift card from the company and the deal is waay better for two people than one and nobody in the super square is available :( _

The lie slips from her fingers without her planning it, and she blinks at the message several seconds after sending it. Why did she say that? She is hoping he does not have plans with any of their mutual friends and that there is no other way for him to call her out on her bullshit. Luckily, his reply comes back only a minute later.

_ Sounds great! Want me to pick you up? Just let me know the time _

_ 6-ish? and dress nice this place is not joking around _

She reads his last reply and drops the phone on the sofa cushion like it were on fire. Time to go figure out dinner and purposefully _ do not  _ think about what he texted back. 

_ It is a date :) _

* * *

The restaurant is by far the nicest one Daisy has ever stepped foot on, and she is glad she dug deep in her closet for the occasion. Luckily, Lincoln looks amazing as always, even if a little tired- but that also goes with the whole Doctor look, so while she feels for him as his friend, it is a nice touch as far as deceptions go. 

They are being led inside by an overly polite waitress when Lincoln places a hand on her waist and another one on her elbow. Daisy almost breaks his nose out of surprise when he leans down to whisper at her, “Do you think we could snatch a bottle of champagne if I propose?”

She can physically feel her smile spreading on her cheeks. Yeah, this is why she asked him.

“It couldn’t hurt to try.” 

He does not mock-propose, but he holds her hand and calls her  _ sweetheart _ , and the waitress is so charmed by him that she still sneaks them two flutes of champagne.

Daisy can not say that she blames her. 

* * *

“You like him,” Bobbi interrupts her- hilarious, mind you- retelling of that night, and Daisy almost spills all over herself the cup of coffee she just grabbed.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t try to Jemma your way around this conversation,” Bobbi warns while she offers a paper napkin. Daisy takes it and uses it less to dry her face and more to hide while she schools her expression under control again. “I am immune to excuses and you know it.”

“Barbara, I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice, if she is being honest, is way less firm than it should, and the fact that Bobbi is putting into words the insidious idea that has been worming its way inside her brain for the last week makes her knees go weak. 

“Come on, Daisy. You didn’t like each other when you were younger, that’s fine. But people change.” She gives Daisy a tiny window of time to rebut her affirmation, but Daisy can not find any words on her suddenly parched throat.“You keep finding excuses to pretend to be together instead of trying it for real. It was cute after a while, but it needs to stop.”

“I can’t believe you used your girlfriend’s name as a verb that means trying to talk your way out of trouble.” The evasion sounds weak even to her own ears, but it is all she has to offer to keep Bobbi from looking at her trembling hands.

Of course, Bobbi notices it all the same and maybe she takes pity on her friend or maybe she decides she has said enough on the topic.

“Can you blame me?” 

* * *

Her conversation with Bobbi makes rounds and rounds on her mind all week long. Daisy is not naive enough to pretend there is not something boiling between her and Lincoln, but to assume that she might be interested in him feels a little… overhasty. Yeah, they have a nice time when they are together. Yeah, she finds him handsome and witty and so kind that it makes her heart ache. Yeah, she might have been thinking about telling him before telling any of her other friends every time something nice happened to her in the last few weeks, but that doesn’t mean-

When her phone rings and his name appears on her screen in the middle of her musings, her heart jumps to her throat. Did she just conjure him with her sheer power of will? Bobbi wouldn’t have said something to him, would she? Daisy doesn’t really consider her friend capable of doing something like that, but- _s_ __top pani_ cking and open the damn text. _

_ Good morning, Daisy! Got something to ask you, could we meet later today? _

Goddammit.

* * *

She arrives fifteen minutes early, gets a tall black coffee, and gulps it down as a palliative for the little sleep she got last night. She regrets it almost instantly. On top of being under-rested and nervous, now she also got the jitters. Second to none conditions to meet someone about whom she has mushy, confusing feelings.

Lincoln arrives five minutes late and apologizes profusely before asking what she wants. Daisy asks for a chamomile tea and a blueberry muffin, and shrugs at his raised eyebrow at her odd choice; she believes she can not handle more caffeine, but she definitely wants something to hold on her nervous hands and something she can pinch while they talk

When he comes back with their drinks, he doesn't spend any time beating around the bush or making small talk, and Daisy is both grateful for and terrified because of that.

“I know you are on a work break, so I will be brief: I need to ask you for a favor.”

Daisy waits but since he doesn’t elaborate, she prods him, “Okay, go on.”

Instead of explaining, Lincoln takes a sip of his coffee and clears his throat, looking everywhere except at her eyes. It looks like he is just as nervous as she is, if not more. That doesn’t exactly ease away her own nervousness, but it does make her want to be more proactive about the whole situation. She puts on a brave smile and winks at him. Somehow, that seems to work: he takes in a deep breath and begins.

“Have you ever been in one of those situations that… escalate?” Daisy nods, wondering where in hell is this going. “You started something, thinking you were going to go as far as telling lies A, B, and C to get out of an awkward situation, and then it’s three minutes later and you find yourself making laps around the alphabet to label all the lies you are saying?”

Daisy can not help letting out a small laugh. “That’s a strange way to describe it, but I think I get the idea, and yeah, been there.”

“Well, to not make a long story even longer, I will come out with it: I am invited to my ex’s wedding this weekend-”

“O-Okay.”

“-and I told her I was bringing a plus one.”

A deep silence falls between them. Daisy is sure that if a fly were to pass in between them, it would be paralyzed as if in amber. A minute or so passes before Lincoln is kicked back into motion: he reaches across the table to grab Daisy’s hand to squeeze it, and that makes her shake her own stupor off.

“Why did you do that?”

Lincoln shrugs.

“We broke up on good terms and are friends, but she always felt weird that she moved on romantically and I didn’t. No matter how many times I told her that I am not hung up over her, that I just focused on other aspects of my life instead.”

“Sounds like she cares about you while at the same time being something of a pain in the ass.”

Lincoln smiles at her, and that makes Daisy feel better about just badmouthing his ex-girlfriend without even meaning to.

“You are not wrong. Anyway, I told her to not worry, that I was seeing someone I could bring when she sent the invitations and have been dodging questions about the topic. Till now, when the date is upon me and I have no one to bring with me.”

“You could take anyone with you.” _ What on Earth are you doing, Daisy Johnson, you do want to go with him, why would you sabotage yourself like that. _

“I considered asking Jemma, or even Bobbi. You know no one would try to start any bullshit with Bobbi.” Daisy nods; that definitely would have been wise. “But then I thought… why not ask someone that has experience playing my fake girlfriend already?”

There are a lot of witty replies she could use on him, but at the bottom of it all there is a big, unavoidable question: do you want to go out with him, have an excuse to hold his hand and call him by ridiculous pet names and tell outrageous stories about your time together? And the answer is, always, yes. 

Instead, she says, “Please, tell me there will be an open bar and the bride won’t be wearing camo.”

“Yes, and God, I hope not.”

“Then I am sold.” 

* * *

The ceremony is strangely moving considering it is about a couple she hadn’t met before and knew nothing about until half an hour ago.

Daisy would stomp on the foot of anyone who dared suggest that her reaction is somehow tied to a somewhat abstract “biologic clock”, but if one were to deprive that concept of all its misogynistic tints, there could be some truth to that; her reaction might have something to do with her age. It is not so much that she longs for a spouse and children, but that she has learned to value things like compromise and people that are willing to try for you and willing to work with you.

Like friends do.

Like Lincoln, for example.

His arm had not left her waist through the ceremony, and at one point Daisy was about to tell him that he shouldn’t try so hard. But that could have given him the impression that she wanted him to remove it, and that was so much not the case that she decided to keep herself shush. He was warm and it had turned to be a much chillier evening than she expected, she justified it to herself.

Lincoln apparently noticed it too, because he threw his suit jacket on top of her shoulders while they walked to the reception. It is, somehow, a step too much over the line, and she immediately took it off her shoulders and stretched it back to him. 

“Thanks, but you also need this. It’s cold for everyone.”

He blinks. The damn man actually _ blinks  _ at her and Daisy can’t do anything except stare at him widemouthed. She is so utterly  _ fucked.  _

“Haven’t you heard? Pediatricians don’t get sick. I am already immune to pretty much anything.”

Daisy has to channel her inner-Fitz to manage a grumpy voice instead of melting on the spot while she puts on the jacket properly.

“You are not a superhuman just because you are a doctor, you know.”

Lincoln puts his arm on top of her shoulders and honestly. _ Honestly. _

“Do you have sources on that?”

* * *

The reception is awesome.

Not only for everything that comes from the just-married couple (most importantly; good food and great music- the most important staples to any good party if you ask Daisy) but also for the way she gets to experience it.

Firstly, if you don’t shy away from lying and don’t mind being just ridiculous enough to make people feel uncomfortable because they can’t decide if you are being serious or not, playing a fake girlfriend is hilarious. Lincoln is not super close with many guests, so despite agreeing on a minimum fake backstory that is actually just their actual friendship story with some tweaks and embellishments, they decided to let themselves run wild with any other details. What are they here for, if not to have fun, he told her in the car, and Daisy couldn’t agree more. She almost loses it when one of the junior bridesmaids comes to ask her, all moony-eyed, if it is true Lincoln had asked her out with a self-written song. She has to excuse herself to the restroom just to not break down laughing in front of the poor young girl. 

Secondly, well. There is, still, the fact that she is playing  _ Lincoln’s  _ fake girlfriend.

Now, not even before was she naive enough to pretend that there was nothing going on with her feelings for him. But seeing him here, dashing in a dark blue suit, smiling while he dances with the bride’s grandma and herding around a small group of children that he had literally known since they were born, well. That would need someone passing naive and going into dense to keep up the denial.

It is not until after the entrees that they have time to regroup, share some of the best anecdotes, and settle on some outrageous stories they had been spreading around. It’s one of the first few songs after the food, and people are still busy enough with their meals to hit the dance floor when Lincoln invites her. Normally, Daisy would wait for the dance floor to be more crowded before stepping in, but tonight she is not herself but Lincoln Campbell’s quite eccentric girlfriend, and that woman would always say yes.

It is hard to remember that she is indeed not that woman when he holds her in his arms and makes her sway to the soft music, his eyes so gentle that she can not breathe. It’s hard to remember to not close her eyes and let herself be carried away, to not succumb to a smile that has been begging all night long to be kissed away. 

To remind herself what is her place, she whispers against his shoulder, “Do you think we fooled them?”

It takes him several seconds to reply, and Daisy raises her head from his shoulder to look at him with curious eyes before he does. 

“Is it too bad that I don’t care?” The corner of his mouth ticks up and Daisy has to take a deep breath to make sure she is not drowning. “I almost like it better if they leave tonight not knowing if we were pulling their leg or not. I only care about sharing this moment with you.”

If this were a movie, he would bow his head down and kiss her. Or, maybe, he would make the intention very clear but they would be interrupted by someone. As this is not, indeed, a movie, they look into each other's eyes, and just when Daisy starts to think that she has never seen anything bluer than them (because a woman gotta be corny like that every once in a while, okay?), the goddamn man pokes her in the forehead.

“Thank you for doing this, Daisy. You are a real pal.”

Her hopes weren’t well-fed enough to fairly say that he popped them, but there is something like a dream being crushed happening inside her anyway. She still laughs, because he is not wrong, and how could she not? She actually is a real pal.

* * *

The whole wedding operation is, if you ask Daisy, a gigantic success.

They eat and they chat and they dance and they laugh, and she even lets herself get dragged into the whole bouquet affair by the two adorable little girls who sit at the table next to theirs. She is careful to stay on the back as to not risk actually catching the bouquet by mistake, but it’s still fun. With how little her friends and acquaintances have been getting married lately, she almost had forgotten some people still do the entire-package type weddings.

It feels way too soon when Lincoln is dropping her off at home with her shoes on her hands even before midnight, and since she is not Cinderella, she is not afraid to keep the night going when she is having a good time.

“Do you want to come in?” That is not a weird invitation, right? He did say himself that they are pals, after all. “Have a cup of coffee, maybe even catch a movie?”

He doesn’t even hesitate before saying yes, and Daisy turns around to open the door to her home to hide her delighted smile.

* * *

They don’t even get around discussing movies because they start talking while they wait for the coffee and don’t stop. 

It’s only when she is placing both empty mugs on the sink while he is doing a bathroom run, that she realizes it has been a long time since she has talked these many hours in a row with someone, let alone someone who is not a ‘close friend’. She hears his padded steps from walking only on socks come down the hallway, and something inside her snaps.

She waits till she knows he is in fact inside the kitchen, but she does not turn around from the sink before saying, “There is something I need to confess to you.”

There is a small pause on his side, and time stretches around them like petrol. “Okay.”

She inhales deeply and lets it go, whatever may be his answer. She can not carry around anymore these mixed feelings. It would even be better to come clean and be rejected, buy clear the air between them, and start anew so she can actually be the friend he deserves and so clearly wants. 

“Today, more than once, I wished that this thing we are doing wasn’t just for the lols.”

There. She said it and now she has to wait for her sentence. She doesn’t expect him to go off on her angrily, but she did just sorta confess to him, so it’s only fair he will want to let her down gently.

“Daisy.” She had been holding the counter and grinding her teeth with so much force that apparently she had dulled her hearing: she didn’t realize he had walked closer to her until he placed his hands gently over her hips. “I also have something to confess.” The next few seconds feel like forever, but instead of elaborating, Lincoln bows his head and places a kiss on her collarbone. Daisy gasps and shivers at the unexpected contact; they have been casually touching each other for twelve hours straight and they didn’t stop after leaving the party and the pretense, how is that now her skin disintegrates when his lips touch it? “I am completely capable of telling my ex that I am single. But I desperately wanted you there with me, and didn’t know how to ask you without being a creep if not with a ruse.”

Daisy tilts her head to the side: it makes the soft cloth of the t-shirt she changed into when they came back fall a little more off her shoulder. Lincoln does take the hint and places a litany of kisses from her shoulder to her neck.

“So, instead, you kept on fake dating me. Because that doesn’t make us creepy at all.”

“Clearly.”

The reciprocation does not feel like a weight lifted off her shoulders: it is a hook on her navel, lifting her up up up. She turns around: the shoulder kisses are great, but she wants to see his eyes. It is obvious then that the raise upwards is for her to reach his lips. He tastes like her favorite brand of coffee and the wedding cake they got to go, and his kisses are everything she expected from being his friend slash fake girlfriend: solid, grounding, with just the right amount of mischief. 

They kiss long enough for her bare feet to start getting frozen against the cool kitchen floor, and when she mentions it, he lifts her up the counter. Now,  _ that  _ was unexpected (and very much welcomed).

“Do you know what is the bad part in all of this?” she interrupts when he is about to go back to business.

Lincoln raises an eyebrow at her.

“Is there a bad part about this? Already?” 

Daisy punches him on the shoulder. They were friends first, and she intends to keep it that way. “Of course there is. The bad part is that Jemma was right.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> This author replies to comments (but it might take a while). If you'd rather not get a reply, please add *whispers* to your comment.



End file.
